Metal to Flesh
by Abraxas Qlippoth
Summary: A love story between to very unlikely individuals - like Romeo and Juliet, are they fated for doom? Or will love triumph against evil?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**001** **"Chapter 1"** by **Abraxas** 2010-06-01

Lying to Bumblebee was not easy. It was the worst although neither the riskiest nor the deadliest task Sam faced that night. Truth was that he loved his guardian and he hated the thought of putting the Autobot into stress. Not that lying was any better but it had to be that way. If the intention of that night was revealed there would be no way the Camaro was going to allow it. Worse - if Optimus Prime discovered the secret there could be no way to explain it let alone justify it.

It was not supposed to be a secret. Everything started as an effort to make peace between the Cybertronians. The way it evolved into what it became simply defied analysis. And no doubt the conventions of behavior between species from worlds as unequal as theirs.

Sam, in front of the mirror, studied the image with eyes that revealed a kind of guilt. Not overt shame. Yet there might have been a touch of that especially at the end when he turned askance. The floor was a more comfortable place to look and forget. Ritual provided another avenue of escape - buttoning a shirt, tying shoes, humming the song Bumblebee played.

_Bumblebee._ Sam shut his eyes and sighed. What a vain attempt to take his mind off the deception!

Optimus Prime would have been hurt so many different ways. Therefore he could not allow the truth to be revealed. Pretence. Excuse. And bold face lie. That was how everything was staying while the relationship was maintained.

Passion - spurred by determined teenaged recklessness - impelled the endeavor at the start. At the end, now, it became a mixture of excitement and love. Yes, love, star crossed love to be certain. Like Romeo and Juliet. Especially tainted by the forbidden flavor of the affair.

The other lied about it too. So much was at stake if the relationship was known. The consequences of it and walls erected to conceal it oddly proved to the human that the love was real. Despite its patches of roughness. Its moments of peril. They did much to hurt each other yet in pain reconciled they found oceans of pleasure that their willing and able bodies ached to explore.

Because it was kept a secret they could not rely on technology to communicate. A radio would have alerted the Autobots and could have been monitored by the Decepticons. E-mails and IM's were less than secure with the Internet now chocked with Cybertronian worms fighting their battles across the vastness of virtual reality. And cellulars were avoided as the NSA recorded their calls.

Instead the two relied on the most low-tech of methods. It could be the way he wore his jacket or the color of his shirt. Sunglasses. Hats. Never a single item but a variety of signals. And never anything that might be suspected. Just like that messages trickled back and forth.

Sam opened a drawer and revealed a trove of perfumes. Most were the regular, typical of a human. A few others were curious. Searches through the Internet brought to attention stores where such oddities were sold. Scents that mimicked gasoline and diesel were especially popular. He dabbed on a sample of cologne - not enough to be conspicuous but just enough to be noticed by the right kind of people. Of course, it was impossible to mask the organic scent of his body, the joy was about those subtle hints of something beyond human that symbolized even eroticized what he and the other shared.

The clock struck twelve - a glance at the mirror, a final adjustment - and it was time.

**END**


	2. Chapter 2

**002** **"Chapter 2"** by **Abraxas** 2010-06-01

At the base the mood was grim spurred by everything from the light - kept weak and gray - to the whisper that echoed quietly, discreetly between Cybertronians. That appearance of defeat without was a reflection of a turmoil within. It was a year yet a dream compared to eons. A year yet the pain was fresh as if yesterday. Decepticons reeled at the death of the Fallen and the resurrection of the Prime.

"My Lord Megatron - if I - but..." it was Starscream - a wave of the finger silenced (but did not deter) the robot. "But? But!"

"And must you complain about everything?" Megatron trained an eye at the commander. A red point. A black abyss. The sound of it focussing shattered like thunder the clatter of the base. "I do everything already..."

Starscream nodded and seemed to retreat further into the shadow and darkness of the corridor.

Megatron shuddered reminded - suddenly - of an image without context. It was a record called out of a million years of life he stored. A tiny young robot melting into onyx while he reached toward it. Save it? He could not say.

Another word about their state of affairs would have been enough to break. It was madness. All of it. Autobots did not fall apart without the Prime yet they could not endure a year without the Fallen?

He felt the need to run and find a corner of doom at peace - free of Starscream! That robot did not strike a chord of confidence especially after Egypt. He wondered if that attitude was not the cause of their general lack of morale.

He strolled through the base gazing about its vast, underground chambers with a scowl. Like an enigma he moved to and fro vexing everything (and everyone) he found along the way. Nobody suspected his motives. Questioned his intentions as wrong. At least wrong beyond usual. He was a mystery to the others and that was how he wanted it. There was something hidden behind the stress he suffered and the isolation he craved - as relief.

That distance was a cover and under it he consumed the forbidden. Their prying eyes did not know. He was not abandoning their cause and did not intend to compromise their adoration. He was and would be, forever, their Megatron. But...if they knew...and he were tainted by it...how they would be looking at him with their respect fled!

Megatron could not endure the thought of that.

Until he found a way to voice it he opted to retreat - disturbed that the coward's way out was rubbing off on him. That, too, would not do. He was torn like he had been at the start of the war eons ago. He was not ashamed of emotion and the way it was directed. Everyone knew about Orion. Where he went (and what he did) there was scarcely a precedent and many would be dissatisfied.

He would have agreed - the situation was improbable at best - it was just that when they crossed the line of decency every pulse of spark demanded that it was not only perfect but irresistible. When metal met flesh, that moment they shared, erased the distinctions that separated them and they were as if a single unit. He could not fathom the extent and completeness - and the power - of that connection. Nor understand the aim of it. There was no logic with love.

What they shared was not a weakness. Indeed, it was the opposite! Although to another the intimacy could have been mistaken as such.

He scanned the area - alone at last. The secrecy felt cowardly. Sneaking in and out of the base. Still, there was nothing wrong with discretion.

**END**


End file.
